


A Pioneering Colonel

by baja_king



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 15:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15027911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baja_king/pseuds/baja_king
Summary: 2018 Short Story Speed Writing entry. The Heroes accept a work detail assignment on a farm and things do not go as planned.





	A Pioneering Colonel

# A Pioneering Colonel

Calmly scanning the patchwork fields, Hogan’s keen ears detected the hint of distant bombers.  While his men toiled at the cabbages ready for harvest, he casually looked at his watch.  _Tick tock, tick tock;_ the bombing group was late.  Perhaps it did not matter.  He had an alibi for his men.  Row crops proved the most difficult labor as far as agricultural work details went.  There was plenty of stooping to bring in the heads of cabbage.

Schultz calmly approached Hogan and said, “Colonel Hogan, your men are doing an excellent job.”

Hogan shrugged, “It’s still early.  _An awful lot can happen in two hours.”_

Schultz scoffed, “Jolly joker!”

Looking up, Hogan noticed darkening clouds.  Changing his view towards the west, he saw the faraway black plumes of smoke that indicated one less refinery to fuel the Nazi war machinery.  The distant explosions easily could have been mistaken for thunder.  He softly laughed and said, “I think it’s a good day to escape.”

Schultz sternly warned, “Nein!  It is verboten!”

Hogan teased, _“Absolutely nothing to worry about…or is there?”_   The look of sheer exasperation on the guard’s face made Hogan smile.  Then he remembered that Schultz was more of an Ally than enemy was and solemnly said, “I’m sorry.  You’re just doing your job.”

Schultz snapped, “Hurry it up!  It feels like rain.”

After the guard left earshot, Hogan calmly stooped to pick up a head of cabbage and quietly thanked his men for all of their hard work.  They epitomized the phrase unsung heroes.  Hard work resulted in precise intelligence relayed to London.  Someday, they would return home, but not until the war ended with Allied victory.

The old farmer approached on foot leading his donkey that pulled a cart.  Unlike previous visits intended to haul away baskets of cabbage, this time his elderly wife rode in the wagon.  The couple did not speak English but their intent became clear when the wagon stopped.  The husband helped down his wife, who in turn retrieved a large basket.

Carter’s eyes lit up, “I think it’s the lunch lady!”

Kinchloe joked, _“On the other hand, it could be the barmaid!”_

Schultz eagerly approached the woman and exclaimed, “Gnädige Frau!”

Hogan appreciated the kind gesture.  Younger men were called into military service.  The elderly couple ran the farm as best they could with older men not fit for military duty but also unable to successfully bring in the large perishable crops in a timely manner.  Potatoes could stay underground up to one month before rotting.  Food remained a common practicality.  Hogan did not despise the German people, merely the blind adherents to a fanatical leader.  He thanked the woman for the apfelsaft and sandwich mit gegrilltem Sommergemüse.  Personally, he would have preferred mayonnaise instead of butter to compliment the delicately grilled lettuce, squash, eggplant, bell pepper, and mushrooms.  The baguette tasted fresh.

Hogan daydreamed of traveling the eastern seaboard and stopping at quaint roadside diners to indulge in good food at reasonable prices.  Easily, he could charm his way into receiving a free second cup of coffee with the flash of a smile and wink of an eye.  He returned to the moment when Newkirk cried, _“I want the other six, too.”_

Hogan realized the RAF corporal was having fun at Schultz’s expense.  The woman made plenty of sandwiches.  He had to intervene.  The work detail provided an alibi as well as extra food rations.  The farmer promised a small share of the harvest, which would supplement the thin soup for a while.

Schultz turned to Hogan and begged, “Colonel Hogan!  Please!  Talk to Newkirk.  You know I deserve respect.”

Hogan shrugged, _“For the first time since I’ve been in command here, I want to know nothing.”_

Carter chimed in, “That’s a little harsh, boy, uh, sir.”

LeBeau calmly said, “Some things are better left unknown.  Did you know that Berlin used to be famous for its cabarets before Hitler shut them down?”

Carter asked, “Why’d he do that?”

LeBeau replied, “They were worse than all the hedonism of Rome and then some.  Isn’t that right, Schultz?”

Caught in mid-bite of a tasty sandwich, Schultz hastily finished the morsel before answering, “It’s true. _As a matter of fact, I was in Berlin at that time myself.”_

Kinchloe teased, “You dog!”

Newkirk said with false earnestness, “I bet you’d like to go back to those good old days.”

LeBeau said, _“Just don’t lend him your bicycle.”_

Schultz snapped, “Break time is ended!”  He grabbed another sandwich and opted to save it for later, storing it carefully in his coat pocket.  The elderly wife smiled and dispensed remaining sandwiches while the husband tended the loading of the cart.  Newkirk accidentally on purpose brushed against Schultz, but overplayed the ruse.  Schultz patted his pocket and snapped, “Where is my sandwich?”

Newkirk feigned intense ignorance and replied, _“How could you lose something you never had?”_

Hogan sighed, “Newkirk, _forget it.  The game is over._   Give him back his sandwich.”

“Yes sir,” Newkirk said as he produced the sandwich and handed it to Schultz.  “Sorry, mate.  I was just have a little bit of fun.  This here’s hard work, you know, picking up cabbage heads all day.”

Schultz sternly said, “I’m watching you.”

The men continued their labors.  Hogan was not beneath assisting.  London assured him that there would be no missions for the next few days.  He did not like the darkening nimbus clouds.  While they provided some relief from the hot summer day, a quick flash of lightening confirmed his concern that a gully washer was imminent.  He remembered the first time he heard that term during a visit to his uncle in Nevada and a summer desert storm flooded the area.

The farmer did not like the clouds and spoke anxiously with Schultz.  Hogan spoke German fluently but only when he had to.  As an American prisoner, the farmer did not expect the bomber pilot to understand the native language that he spoke with added Bavarian brilliance.  Thunder clapped with deafening velocity, startling the work detail and guards.

Hogan approached Schultz and said, “I think it’s time to go home.”

Schultz snapped, “Roll call!”

The men played no tricks and allowed Schultz to conduct the traditional count.  Hogan felt the large cold drop of rain as it landed on the back of his hand.  He saw a strange glowing yellow ball streak down from the sky and shouted, “Incoming!”

As the men hit the ground, the ball crashed into the field one hundred feet away and exploded.  Dirt and burnt cabbage remnants sprayed the air.  Hogan felt every hair on his body stand up straight and had the sensation of ants crawling all over his body.  It took him a moment to realize it was a dissipating electrical charge.

LeBeau cried, “What was that?”

Newkirk shrugged, _“Life teaches only one thing – there are no answers.”_

Carter removed his glove, swatted Newkirk on the head, and said, “Ain’t you never before seen ball lightning?”

Hogan snapped, “Calm down.  Schultz, we have to get out of here.”  He realized the farmer and wife were in the cart hurrying the donkey away.  Silently, he cursed.  The couple chose saving cabbages instead of men.  The downpour began in earnest as men stood.  Marching through a field proved impractical under dry conditions and impossible as the onslaught of water created a muck that mired the route step.

Minutes felt like hours but the weary group made it back to the farmhouse vicinity.  The elderly wife gestured for them to enter the barn.  Hogan knew it was no insult.  There were simply too many men to go into the house.  He almost fell in exhaustion in a small pile of hay.  Then he smelled coffee – but how?  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust in the dimly lit barn.  The cart laden with cabbage baskets sat unattended while the farmer tended to the donkey.  The wife took care of a coffeepot over a small fire pit while one of the three farmhands widened a clear patch of dirt around it.

As a cow calf approached LeBeau in curiosity, the Frenchman declared, “I shall call you Blanquette de veau!”  The statement immediately drew the ire of the wife as she lay down a verbal assault in German against LeBeau while he retaliated in French.

Schultz shook his head, “Cockroach, you’ll never learn.  She’s already won the argument.”

“Bah!”

Carter said, “I think they sell milk too.  See all of those canisters over there?”

Kinchloe said, “She might not understand French but she definitely understands French cuisine and she don’t want you cooking her future milk cow.”

Fortunately, LeBeau swallowed his pride and acted with humility as he allowed the wife to scold him.  Only after the woman was satisfied did she return to the coffeepot and start pouring cups of liquid gold to warm up the men.  There was nothing else to do except wait out the storm that pelted raindrops across the roof with such intensity that Hogan wondered if it would survive the rage.

Hogan realized he was negligent when Langenscheidt arrived and rendered a report to Schultz.  Somehow, he failed to notice the young guard’s absence.  The truck remained stuck in the mud.  The telephone lines were down and he was unable to inform Klink that the detail was stranded.  The wife insisted on bringing the guard closer to the fire.

Schultz said, “We’ll push it when that rain stops.”

Hogan sighed, “We never should have volunteered for this detail.”

Schultz laughed, _“You boys sure picked a bad night.”_   The rotund guard let out a hearty laugh.  An enormous thunderclap sounded, transforming the jolly guard into a nervous Nellie.  Then he remembered that civilians observed his actions and returned to the strict guard as he barked orders for the men to behave.

Hurry up and wait – the men had nothing else to do while the storm continued.  The farmer and his wife left the barn while the farmhands tended to the assorted animals.  There were ten cows and one calf but no sign of a bull.  The donkey stayed in his stall, door open, but content to rest on hay.  The pig enjoyed free reign along with the calf.

Newkirk said, “There’s no telling how long this might last.  We could be here for hours.”

Schultz asked, “Do you have something else to do?”

Hogan said, “As a matter of fact, yes!  It’s almost suppertime and I don’t like missing a meal!”

“Neither do I,” commented Schultz.

Men tried getting rest.  Hogan liked the sound of a gentle rain but the storm raged for another hour.  Barns had unexpected creaks and animal noises.  The calf took a liking to LeBeau and lay next to him.  Carter tried coaxing a chicken into laying an egg, which interested Schultz but annoyed Newkirk.

Hogan was unaware of how long he had dozed but sat up suddenly at the sounds of an argument.  The chicken finally laid an egg, which promptly disappeared.  Newkirk received blame but denied taking it.  Hogan decided against interjecting.  It was only one egg.  He noticed his two radiomen tapping back and forth in Morse code.

Kinchloe tapped to Baker, _“The first thing we’ve got to do is not let him know that we know.”_   The two men quietly laughed, arousing suspicion from comrades and enemy alike, yet politely declining to share the joke.  Okay, so the two men knew who stole the egg, thought Hogan.

The three farmhands entered the barn and Hogan realized it had stopped raining.  The eldest one informed Schultz that it was safe to leave.  Hogan quietly groaned, knowing that he and his men likely would have to push the truck out of the mire.  Men grumbled as guards called the men for roll call.

Exiting the barn, the air smelled clean.  The setting sun accentuated the dispersing clouds with brilliant colors.  Then Hogan realized the truck was out of the mire and parked on the road.  He turned to Kinchloe and asked, _“How did three men do that without any help?”_

Kinchloe said, “It wasn’t easy.  Look at those troughs in the dirt.”

Schultz ordered the men into the truck.  The farm experience proved miserable yet no one really wanted to return to camp.  As he climbed into the truck, Hogan saw ten baskets of cabbage neatly stacked against the wall of the cab.  The farmers kept their promise despite losing a portion of the harvest to the storm.

Kinchloe said, “Sounds like the story’s ending.”

“I think you’re right, Kinch,” said Hogan.

Carter said, “But we’re still short one quote!”

Hogan smiled, “I don’t think so.  Look!  Here comes Uncle Fred!”  Men peered out the back of the truck and saw an old man in a half run hampered by arthritis trying to get to the vehicle.

Kinchloe said, “He can’t be here.”

Hogan asked, “Why not?”

“You said your uncle lived in Nevada,” replied Kinchloe.

“Perfection, to be exact,” said Hogan.

Kinchloe cried, “Wait a minute!  No one said we were doing a crossover.”

Carter earnestly asked, “We are?”

Newkirk snapped, “That man isn’t alive!”

Old Fred shouted, _“I am not dead!”_

As the truck started, men watched as a moving mound of dirt caught up to Old Fred.  The giant graboid lunged out of the ground and swallowed the man whole.

Kinchloe said, “I think the author just cheated.”

Hogan said, “Good luck, beloved fan fiction writers, with your charitable fundraisers for your good causes.  May this entry into the 2018 Short Story Speed Writing Challenge help make a difference.”

_Fin_


End file.
